You know that feeling? When you’re scanning the horizon, waiting for that hero to show up? The one with the cape, the grand plan, the blinding charisma to swoop in and make everything… better? Yeah. Me too. For the longest time, my vision was skewed. I kept waiting for the great white hope, some gleaming figure riding in to save the nation. But the harsh, liberating truth eventually dawned: there was no hero coming. Not like that. He only had himself. Tomorrow wasn’t some distant land waiting for a savior’s ship; it had always waited, patiently, insistently, to be shaped by his hands.
The real power, the true role modeling, happens when we see the human behind the action. When we see the hands shaping tomorrow – calloused maybe, trembling sometimes, but always working – and realize: “Hey, my hands look like that too. Maybe I can shape something here.” The great hope isn’t white, or singular, or distant. It’s multi-colored, flawed, resilient, and living right next door. It’s us, choosing to show up, hands ready, tears un-hidden if they come, building something real. That’s the heroism that actually saves. Day by day. Hand by hand…
DMT 